The Dangerous Art of Compartmentalization
by TheCorrosivePen
Summary: Starts directly after "Terms and Conditions" (3x08). For Bellamy the path to redemption is not without a price. Entire ensemble guest stars.
1. Part 1: Break

I couldn't get this out of my head, so here it is. Unlike many, I haven't hated Bellamy's arc this season (not to say I love it either). I can see where many have problems with it and I'm not going to argue against that view point. That said, I think Bellamy does a hell of a lot of compartmentalizing and that it's finally come and bit him in the ass.

So here's my version of Bellamy's odyssey to rescue Kane and find redemption before it's too late. Hope you enjoy.

 ** _Compartmentalization - com·part·men·tal·i·za·tion, noun:_** _An unconscious psychological defense mechanism used to avoid cognitive dissonance, or the mental discomfort and anxiety caused by a person's having conflicting values, cognitions, emotions, beliefs, etc. within themselves._

Part 1: Break

Cold, paralyzing terror tore through him, freezing his blood. The hot rage that had burned so long beneath his skin had extinguished, eclipsed by the cold, driven out by the words echoing through his mind. _Sentence you to death_.

Somewhere beyond the throbbing in his head, Bellamy could hear Monty's heavy breaths beside him, each inhalation another stone atop his chest. Without the simmering rage, his constant companion from the moment they set foot on this cursed ground, or perhaps even before that, from his days of solitude on the Ark where he prayed for his sister's survival, he was nothing. He was nothing without that fire in his veins, that burn in his heart. The knowledge that while he might not be good, he was right.

Monty's tense voice cut through his chaos. "What about Miller and Harper?"

Bellamy swallowed, his throat burning with doubt. They were his people. His people from long before the stations fell to the ground and joined this eternal war. His responsibility, he realized with a shuddering breath. He slid his eyes to Monty, determination building within him. He would not betray his people.

Monty's mother appeared before them, a hollow soul with fire for eyes and acid for lungs. Bellamy could see that now, the stench of her washing over him as she congratulated them.

"Were you able to identify anyone Kane was working with?"

Her voice grated against his ears and he strained to maintain a neutral expression. She was a viper waiting to strike and he would not tempt her. "No."

Her eyes flashed as he stared into their ebony depths. Bellamy looked away too soon, not knowing how to keep from lashing out, needing to maintain his cool. She'd wanted to float Sinclair. She'd wanted to bring the hell that was the Ark down to the Earth. No matter what he knew about the Grounders, no matter how they twisted his sinews with rage, he knew the Ark had been worse. It had taken his mother, his sister. It had taken its own.

The silence stretched a beat too long, but Monty did not object to Bellamy's denial, instead shaking his head, lips sealed. Bellamy released the breath he'd been holding. After all the hardened woman before them was Monty's mother and Bellamy had not been certain which side Monty would choose. But then again, the young man had voiced more concerns than Bellamy in the past few days. Even so, Bellamy knew the ties of blood were strong. Octavia's disapproving face flashed through his mind. Or were they? He swallowed again, fighting to pay attention to the dimly veiled threat emanating from Hannah.

"… make it clear to the people of Arkadia which side they should be on." She paused, her dark eyes boring into Bellamy. "It's not really that hard, choosing what's best for you people, is it?"

"No," he murmured, pushing the word out past his hammering heart. "I do it every day."

She held his gaze, searching for weakness. He gave her nothing, the rising tide of despair held in check for now. Only after her footsteps ceased to echo did he exhale, his shoulders shaking.

"I need to get out of here."

Monty's gaze snapped to him. "What?"

Bellamy's teeth ground together, a screech in his mind. "This is not happening."

Monty nodded. "Go to Miller. I'll get rid of the equipment we set up for the bug."

"Don't tell Bryan."

"You don't trust him?" Monty's tone betrayed no emotion, but Bellamy knew better.

"I want to, believe me. I know he felt bad about lying to Miller in the first place, but he's Farm Station." A month ago such an assentation would have been absurd. A month ago he was still burying his head in Gina's wild hair and thinking of another woman. His jaw clenched and he forced his thoughts in another, more immediate direction.

"Be quick," Monty warned, already turning away from him. "They're watching all of us."

Bellamy nodded, moving in the opposite direction. Alone again, the weight of Pike's words slammed back into him, stealing his breath away. He forced his lungs to inhale, ignoring the tremble of his lip and the scream of his heart.

He found Miller sitting next to Bryan and Harper, the fire dancing across their despondent faces. They knew. Miller's eyes locked on Bellamy as he approached, his boots crunching against the earth. The other man's gaze was accusing and Bellamy felt yet another stone crush his chest.

"I need a word with Miller." He paused, taking in Harper's barely disguised disgust. "Alone."

If Bryan was suspicious, he didn't show it. His eyes held only soft curiosity as Bellamy swept his gaze back to Miller. Good. One less complication.

"You don't…"

"It's fine, Harper," Miller interrupted, his tone as cold as the ice coating Bellamy's veins.

"Walk with me." Bellamy turned away, trusting Miller to follow as they he headed toward the shadows. They moved silently except for the occasional snap of a twig for several minutes until the lights of Arkadia were a mere smear in the night.

"I never pegged you for a coward before," Miller's caustic voice sliced through the darkness.

Bellamy spun to face him, eyes meeting Miller's steely gaze. "We don't have time for this. Not right now."

"So you admit you've fucked up."

Some of the fire rose once again within him, battling with the ice. "I am not apologizing for refusing to trust the grounders, Miller. They have done nothing but kill us and lie to us."

"But now you've gone and gotten Kane killed." Miller moved closer to him, his words a quiet hiss. "You arrogant fucking bastard."

Bellamy averted his eyes, having no response. He'd barely been able to make himself think it, let alone put it into words. His eyes burned and his vision swam, but he refused to surrender to the current of despair. This was his mess and he was going to fucking fix it, even if it killed him. "Call me whatever you want, Miller. We don't have time. I need to get out of here, to find Octavia and Clarke."

"Pike's going to know you've defected. It's all going to come apart the minute you leave."

"Then give me a better option."

They stood frozen, dark eyes dancing in feverish patterns before Miller let out a labored sigh. "I can't. We can cover for you as best we can… assuming Monty is with us now?" Bellamy gave a short nod. "Good. We'll manage. You need to talk to Abby. She'll know how to get you out."

"Abby?" Bellamy's face twisted in confusion. "She didn't even show up to advocate for Kane…"

"There are other things going on, Bellamy. Things I don't even begin to understand, but I know Abby's working a different angle." Miller paused, sliding his eyes in the direction of Arkadia's main buildings. "But if there's one person she'll fight for besides Clarke, it's Kane."

Bellamy took a deep breath, willing the trembling to fade from his limbs. Even though he'd pushed the unthinkable to the back of his mind, he understood what was at stake here. A metallic taste sprung up on his tongue and he turned away from Miller, desperate to act.

"Don't you fuck this up, Blake. Don't you dare." Miller's eyes still raged, but he no longer looked like he was mere moments away from homicide.

Bellamy tried to swallow around the rising lump in his throat.

"Don't worry. I know I can't."


	2. Part 2: Splinter

Part 2: Splinter

Bellamy found Abby sequestered at the back of her clinic, eyes frantically running over a set of chemical formulas on her screen. Her face was sallow and her eyes were rimmed with blotches of red. His chest tightened and he looked away, losing his gaze in the maze of formulas as he cleared his throat, the sound echoing off the clinic's walls.

"What do you want?" Her voice was tired, resigned in a way he'd never heard before.

He could feel the sting of her gaze even as he kept his focus on her workstation. "I need your help."

The hollow laughter that rattled through her had him raising his eyes. The sight that greeted him turned his stomach, another wave of cold thrashing about within him. The accusation in her gaze was unfiltered, so raw in its intensity that he had to clench his fists to prevent himself from looking away.

"You need my help?" The brittle laughter shook Abby again. "What a joke, Bellamy Blake. You tried to turn my daughter over to Pike and now you've given him Marcus. Did you ever stop to think about what that tyrant was going to do when he got them?"

His tongue was sandpaper in his mouth, but he forced the words out. He owed her that. "I never thought he'd sentence Kane to death. I thought we would never kill our own…"

"How can you be so naïve? Didn't you see what happened on the Ark? What happened to your mother?" It was a low blow, but he was hardly in a position to protest. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light of the monitor. "Did you ever think about what Pike would do to Clarke if he got his hands on her? She's been living with the Grounders, Bellamy. She and Lexa are up to their necks in it together. How could you not see that he would kill my daughter?"

If Kane's execution order had been a violent blizzard tearing through his soul, this was an earthquake shattering it. He might not be Clarke's biggest fan right now, but damn it if he was ever going to let anything happen to her. He might want to scream at her until his voice was hoarse, but he would never harm her. Never sentence her to death. Bile rose in his throat so suddenly he choked, turning away from Abby with a violent rasp.

But Bellamy had. His hand dropped to the counter beside him, steadying him against the realization. He'd tried to deliver her to Pike. He'd been so sure he was protecting her from Lexa it had never occurred to him what Pike would do. Bellamy had been so fucking certain they would never hurt one of their own. Incarcerate, yes. Restrain, yes. But never kill.

When his breath finally evened out and the bile retreated enough for him to speak, he turned to meet Abby's haunted eyes. "I never wanted this. Help me fix this."

Her jaw twitched. "What do you want from me?"

"I need to find your daughter and my sister. I need to stop Pike before it's too late."

None of the hardness faded from her, but she nodded. "I can do that. Clarke is in Polis and so I imagine is Octavia…"

"I have to run the blockade." He'd known there was a strong possibility of that before he'd come to her, but the confirmation set his mind reeling again. The Grounders had them surrounded and were hungry for the blood Lexa continued to deny them. One wrong step and he was dead. And if he was dead, so was Kane.

"I can get you out of Arkadia, but that blockade is up to you." Her lips twisted into a sardonic grin. "After all, you're the reason it even exists, aren't you?"

He didn't let his expression waver as her accusation sank into him, twisting with the other tendrils of guilt that bound his soul. "Fine. Get me out of here."

She rose, pausing to shut down her workstation. "With pleasure, Mr. Blake."

The sun had already sunk far below the horizon by the time Bellamy approached the first Grounder patrol. He'd done his best not to think as he crept away from camp, ever vigilant of the sights and sounds around him. The last few months had taught him much about moving through the forest and he was eternally grateful that he no longer snapped twigs and shuffled leaves as he moved. Gina had taught him how to walk quietly; she'd called it cat walking, he'd thought the name was absurd. His gut twisted as he sank low behind a tree, not wanting to risk the Grounder lookouts spotting him.

Gina. Bellamy hadn't wanted that, hadn't even had time to think about romance since they'd landed, but suddenly she was there when he was hollow, desperate to filled. Mt. Weather had taken a part of his soul. He'd looked good people in the eye and promised to help them, but instead he'd killed them. Rationally he'd understood why Clarke had run out of options, why they'd run out of options, but the sleepless nights and raging nightmares wore away at him, rubbing him raw.

And Gina had been there, the balm to his gaping wounds. She'd loved him simply, without the hell of war between them. He'd slept soundly in her arms, the restlessness only returning as weeks turned into months and Clarke never returned. Bellamy wasn't sure if he'd loved Gina or not, but he'd needed her, appreciated her even if the flame of love had not yet thrived within him.

And then, just as suddenly, Gina was gone, the ghost of Echo's face mocking him to sleep. Her death hadn't changed him. It hadn't rocked or shifted his world. He'd already seen Roma run through with a spear. He'd watched the Grounders cut down his early bedfellows, spilling their crimson blood on the ground with the ruthless precision of warriors. Every woman he'd ever clung to in desperate hope of chasing away his demons lay in the ground. Except Raven. But even strong, fearless Raven had been scorched by the Grounders, destroyed as Clarke sank her knife into Finn's chest.

He grit his teeth, and peered around the tree again. The Grounders hadn't moved. Sighing, he sank back to the ground, the chill of the earth matching the chill in his veins. He could wait them out. Bellamy leveled his gaze at the shifting shadows of the forest, struggling against the exhaustion seeping through his bones. His fight was not over.

A hand on his shoulder had Bellamy shooting to his feet, cursing his senses as he swung to confront his attacker.

"Bellamy?"

His sister's voice cut softly through the night. She was standing beside him, Indra beyond her. While her voice had been soft, even kind, her eyes flashed with a foreign rage. She exchanged a long look with Indra before reaching out to roughly grasp his arm.

"Follow me. Don't say a fucking word."

He did his best to tread softly as she and Indra led the way, moving parallel to the boundary. Within a few minutes, Octavia was ducking into a cave whose entrance was hidden from view by several large pine trees and faced away from the blockade line. A fire pit smoked at the center of the stone floor and Octavia wasted no time rekindling the glowing embers.

Their walk had been necessarily silent due to the Grounders, but Bellamy knew the calm would not last long now that they were sequestered from searching eyes and ears.

Indra's dark gaze held such heavy accusation that he refused to even look at her. Her anger was not hot, like his sister's, but deadly cold. He knew that if they were alone, his life would be forfeit.

"What the hell are you doing out here, Bellamy?" Octavia's rage was barely contained, her lips trembling as she faced him.

He had no time to defend himself. Had no idea if he even should. "Pike has sentenced Kane to death. Probably Sinclair and Lincoln too."

Her fist connected with his jaw before he even saw her move. The blow rocked him backward, sending him sprawling away from the fire. Bellamy brought his hand up to rub his jaw, but made no move to rise. "We still have time to save them! I need your help-"

"My help!" she exploded, her dark hair flying around her she swung toward him, her eyes dark and dangerous. "You're the reason they need saving."

They'd fought before. They'd said things they didn't mean. But Bellamy had never heard her sound like this, never heard the venom of hatred lacing her strong voice. "O…"

"This is your fault! Everything that's gone wrong is your fault." Octavia was growling now, her voice jagged and guttural. "I swear if Lincoln dies, you are dead to me."

He wanted to run away, to turn back time to a moment where his sister didn't see him for the monster he was. Where his sister didn't stare at him with rancor in her eyes and disgust in her heart. But what he'd told Clarke was true. This was who he'd always been. Always hurting those he loved, always spreading pain. He'd been stupid to think he'd escaped himself. Stupid to believe Pike would save him.

"We will stop this." Indra had been silent, her eyes speaking volumes, until now. She moved from the edge of the cave, the slight limp in her walk reminding Bellamy just how guilty he ought to feel. He'd spared her in a massacre of hundreds. He'd known they'd gone too far and yet he'd still believed Pike would never cross the line, never turn on their own. Killing the enemy was unfortunate but necessary. Killing your friends was irredeemable. Even in the dark chaos of his soul, he knew that.

Bellamy swallowed the metallic taste in his mouth, turning to face Indra. "Where is Clarke?"

"She was supposed to leave at dawn, just like me," Octavia began, her eyes losing some of their fire. "But I haven't seen her. We agreed to meet here, which is why Indra and I are camped out. Lexa has given us a chance to take out Pike before she has to declare a full out war on the 13th clan."

Bellamy's gut knotted further as he thought of Clarke, all alone and no longer disguised, running the blockade. His blood ran even colder as he realized they didn't have time to wait for her. "Pike will act soon, within a day or two at the most."

Octavia turned away from him, her slim shoulders set with determination as she paced the small cave. "We wait until dawn. If she's still not here, we plan our attack."

Indra settled onto a set of furs on the opposite side of the fire. He dark eyes glistened as she stared across the dying embers at Bellamy's slumped form. "Sleep with one eye open, Bellamy kom Skaikru."


	3. Part 3: Wreck

Part 3: Wreck

The soft murmur of voices roused Bellamy from sleep. He shot upright immediately, hands scraping against cold stone as adrenaline flooded his system. His fingers dug into the rock beneath him as his eyes frantically searched the empty cave.

"Clarke!"

Octavia's voice was louder now, holding an edge of excitement. Icy tendrils shot down his spine as reality surged over him. _Kane_. He sprang to his feet, flying toward the cave entrance where he skidded to a halt, stumbling as he stared at Octavia embracing Clarke. He slid his gaze further back to where Murphy stood awkwardly beside them, his eyes resting suspiciously on Indra before shifting to Bellamy. He gave a visible start, but seemed to know that more important things were on the table than unplanned reunions.

Clarke backed away from Octavia, her eyes sweeping over Bellamy with a detachment that caught his breath in his throat. She turned to Indra, face etched with pain. "Lexa is dead."

Bellamy's breath rushed out of his lungs and he staggered backward. Lexa was dead? Lexa, however much he might hate her, was the only thing keeping the twelve clans from roasting Skaikru alive. He swallowed, the lump in his throat growing with every breath.

"Then the conclave has begun." Indra noted, her voice dispassionate.

Clarke nodded, her eyes leaking tears. "We were left with no choice but to flee Polis."

"We?" Octavia questioned, motioning toward Murphy.

"Titus, the flame keeper or whatever the hell you Grounders call him, was using me as his personal pin cushion." Murphy offered, shrugging. "You look like hell, Blake."

Bellamy managed to find his voice in time to mutter, "Right back at you."

Clarke seemed to have stanched her tears as she turned to stare at Bellamy, seeming to register him for the first time. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Octavia's fierce eyes locked with his. "Trying to fix the fact that he's managed to get Kane, Sinclair, Lincoln and who know who else sentenced to death."

Clarke's eyes widened as they flew to meet his. "Is this true?"

The weight of her gaze was too much for Bellamy, too heavy in its judgment, its lack of surprise. He swallowed. What did he expect? The last time they'd been together she'd shock lashed him and he'd handcuffed her. He cleared his throat, dropping his gaze. "Yes."

Clarke hadn't said a word to Bellamy since his confession. She hadn't even looked at him. Instead, Clarke, Octavia and Indra had retreated into the cave, making no indication that either Bellamy or Murphy was welcome to join them. Which left Bellamy and Murphy staring awkwardly at each other. Bellamy hadn't seen Murphy since he disappeared shortly after Finn's death and although the crazy young man had occasionally crossed his thoughts in the past few months, he'd counted him as one of the dead.

"So…" Murphy paused, rubbing at a scar on his cheek. "When did you become the bad guy? I thought that was my job."

Bellamy's smile held no warmth as he stared back. "Fuck if I know. Where the hell have you been?"

"Joining the Jaha Adventure Squad. Quitting the Jaha Adventure Squad. The usual." Murphy leaned back against one of the pines obscuring the cave.

"Is Lexa really dead?"

"Yup." His lips twisted into a ghost of smile. "The bastard was trying to kill Clarke, but ended up taking out his precious commander."

Bellamy's eyes narrowed and he moved a step closer to Murphy, trying to get a read. But his eyes were sullen and his face betrayed nothing but a smug satisfaction that Bellamy knew was nothing but misdirection. "Why was he trying to kill Clarke?"

Murphy gave a careless shrug. "Damned if I know. Probably something about the whole blood must not have blood deal Lexa'd started spouting. Or maybe protecting his hokey religion."

Bellamy's stomach turned as Murphy spoke. _Blood must not have blood_. It went against everything he'd ever known about the Grounders. But it made sense that Clarke was the hand that staid the call to war. They'd killed an entire army and been given a blockade. It had been unexpected, so unlike the war mongering people he knew. So of course it had been Clarke, still trying to save them all.

And what exactly had he been doing? Saving his people? Destroying them? He didn't know what to think, couldn't give himself the chance to ponder the questions. What was done, was done. He would deal with the abyss of his soul later, after he saved the only man who truly listened to him, who respected him, who refused to harm Bellamy no matter the consequences. Bile rose again, searing his throat and tearing at his heart. He shook his head, dark curls flying, and bit down hard on his lip. He didn't have the time.

Murphy had been silent, watching him, but finally took a step forward, spidery hand grasping at Bellamy's shoulder. "A lot of shit is fucked, Blake. Don't blame yourself for everything." His tone was even, but held a world-weariness incongruent with Bellamy's memories of him, as if the past few months had irrevocably changed him from the boy Bellamy had known into something foreign and wise.

He held Murphy gaze a moment longer, searching for the boy he'd once known. But there was nothing, just a tired, sullen stare and spark in his eye that Bellamy couldn't quite identify.

"Jaha came back…"

Murphy's gaze sharpened, his focus snapping back to Bellamy with surprising acuity. "So he's at Camp Jaha. I figured as much. Was Otan with him?"

"Arkadia now," Bellamy corrected absently. "Otan?"

"Grounder kid? Probably was carrying Jaha's damn backpack?"

Bellamy's chest tightened as he remembered the story of Jaha arriving. Of the Gounder that was with him. Of the guards killing the boy. He hadn't given it any thought, just another Grounder trying to invade their walls, but now the weight pressing down on him was unbearable as he whispered, "They shot him."

Murphy stared at him with a blank expression, his throat working silently. His eyes filled with pain for an instant before he took a deep breath and shook his head. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. The Ark guards always tended to shoot first, ask questions later…"

Bellamy had nothing to say, nothing that he could manage to force past the suffocating weight of his own memories. So he tilted his head upward and tried to see the blue of the sky through the spines of the trees.


	4. Part 4: Shatter

Part 4: Shatter

It seemed like an eternity before Octavia and Indra stepped out of the cave, but time was warped for Bellamy so it could have been mere minutes before his sister's hardened stare bored into his skull.

"Clarke wants to talk to you." Her lips twitched as her eyes flashed with a malice he never wanted to see again. "God knows why."

Bellamy glanced briefly back at Murphy, but the other man was staring into the distance, his expression an odd combination of wistful and ferocious. Bellamy looked quickly away and stepped tentatively into the cave. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light of the fire, stoked again to cast haunting shadows on the jagged walls. Clarke stood across from him, her back turned toward the entrance and her golden hair glowing in the firelight.

He swallowed and looked away, the pounding of his blood drowning out his quickening breaths. He wasn't sure he could do this right now, but he also knew he didn't have a choice. They needed to save Kane and if they were going to do that, they needed to work together.

He licked his lips, ignoring the sting as his tongue brushed across the split his sister had gifted him. His voice sounded foreign, raw as it echoed across the chamber. "I'm sorry about Lexa."

Her petite frame trembled, but she didn't turn to face him. "I thought you hated her."

Bellamy ran a desperate hand through his hair. "That doesn't mean I'm not sorry."

Clarke swung around suddenly, a violent motion that had his pulse jumping. "He tried to kill me because of you, all of you and your stupid, stupid ideas."

"Who?" Bellamy didn't want to argue with her, wasn't able to argue with her.

"Titus. The flame keeper, Lexa's advisor." For a moment a strange expression crossed her face, as if she'd eaten something sour. An instant later it was gone and her shadowed eyes were piercing through him. "What the hell were you thinking Bellamy? What the hell were any of you thinking?"

She slashed her hand through the space between them, silencing whatever reply had been on the tip of his tongue. "Nevermind. I've heard it all before. How I kill people. How I don't know what's right for my people. How preventing a war isn't worth it. I wanted to fix this, Bellamy, and you wouldn't let me! And now you're killing people too, aren't you? How does it feel? Having blood on your hands that's just yours? That you can't blame on me?"

His blood was boiling by the time she finished, decimating the ice and steaming through him. "How do I feel? I already had blood on my hands that was just mine, Clarke! I stole the radio and tossed it in the water. I made the decision to head to the summit instead of staying at Mt. Weather. I lost the woman I could have loved and that's on me, not anybody else." His voice was a tortured growl, barely audible, but full of power and suffering.

"What?"

"Things happened while you were gone, Clarke. Life moved the fuck on. Just because you weren't there, doesn't mean we all didn't have to keep going." His voice was bitter now, as bitter as before, when she'd come to confront him in the depths of Arkadia.

Some of the fight melted out of her as she took a step toward him, hand rising then falling to her side. Her throat worked for a long moment before she murmured, "Tell me about her."

His eyes flashed up to meet hers, finding only sadness in their infinite depths. "She was kind, smart. She'd been a great student in Earth Skills, not that I wasn't, but she remembered all the little things I'd forgotten. She taught me how to walk in the forest without making a noise… she cared. She'd found me a copy of the Illiad. She didn't deserve to be stabbed by some Grounder Warrior trying to make a statement against Lexa. She didn't deserve to die in a war we didn't start."

Clarke was silent for a long moment before she sank to the ground, leaning back against the cave with her eyes lifted to the haunting shadows dancing across the ceiling. "I don't think any of us gets what we deserve down here."

He shifted, his chest tightening as he moved to sit beside her. Not so close as to touch her, but not so far away as to be unable to feel the warmth of her. "What the fuck happened to us?"

"I have no idea." She laughed, a bitter laugh that sent goosebumps down his arms. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions. I left… and you… all because we thought we were doing the right thing." She sighed, her head dropping against the cave wall with a dull thud. "And what do we have to show for it? Another war? More lost friends? The women we loved dead."

Bellamy's breath caught. "The women we loved?"

Clarke's head rolled slowly toward him, her eyes glistening in the dancing fire. "I loved her."

"Lexa."

She nodded, her gaze growing distant and tortured. "I loved her so damn much, Bellamy, but I lost her too. I lost my father, Wells, Finn… am I cursed? Does everyone I love have to die?"

"You didn't lose me."

His words hung between them for a long moment, her eyes desperately searching his. "I thought you hated me."

Bellamy dropped his head, eyes staring blearily into the fire until they stung. "I could never hate you. Disagree with you, yes. But never hate you."

"You were going to give me to Pike." She said the words softly, without accusation.

"I was naïve." His fingers dug violently into his dark curls. "I thought I was protecting you, saving you from Lexa."

"I never had anything to fear from Lexa."

He slid his gaze sideways, catching her ruined eyes. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, searching for words. "I get that now. I'm sorry. So damn sorry."

Clarke shrugged, her eyes shuttering. "Sorry doesn't really fix anything, does it?"

"No."

"I'm so tired of this," she admitted, eyes caught in the fire. "I once told Lexa that I believe life should be about more than just surviving. She told me that again right before she died. I just have no idea how to make that happen. How to not just survive."

"Neither do I." He stared at her for an infinite moment before slowly raising his left hand to rest on her knee.

"Why'd you do it, Bellamy? Why'd you believe in Pike? Why couldn't you trust me?" Clarke's voice was strangled now, as if the air was rushing out of the cave, starving her of oxygen.

He stared down at his hand on her knee, feeling the tremble of her leg beneath his palm. "Why'd you leave me? All of us? You left and took everything with you, Clarke. Everything…"

"I knew I could leave –"

"Because they had me." His fingers dug into the flesh of her knee. "I heard you the first time. But who'd that leave me with? Who was there to keep me from falling apart? You came into that mountain like a hurricane and destroyed everything in your path, but I'd been there. I'd learned their names, their faces. I couldn't just walk away from that."

Clarke settled a heated palm across his hand. Her skin burned, branded him. "I… I was trying to do the right thing. I couldn't bear it…"

"So you left me to bear it for you." He sighed, a deep, bone rattling breath. "Who do you think I am, Clarke? How was I supposed to do that alone?"

"My friend, a man I trust," she offered quietly.

"Still?"

There was a long moment where all Bellamy could feel was the jump of her pulse against the back of his hand. Finally, she whispered, her voice barely a murmur in the dark, "Still."

He digested that, turned her answer over in his brain, trying to find a way to make it fit. Even now, with chaos ensnaring his soul, he believed her, believed her with a manic desperation. And yet he could still smell the decaying flesh, hear the flies buzzing. Could still see the sympathy in Raven's eyes, hear the explosion over the radio. And there was only darkness waiting for him, deep and viscous crawling through his pores and pulsing through his blood.

"I'm a monster."

"No!" she protested, her warm hand slipping into his, squeezing with a strength that belied her size. "No, Bellamy. You've done what you had to do…"

"Except I haven't, have I?" He could feel her fingers twining with his, pulling hope across his skin.

"You thought it was right." Clarke's voice was devoid of judgment now, which was so much worse than her burning rage.

"The Grounders have done nothing but kill us. Nothing but lie to us and murder us. I couldn't let them keep doing that. No matter what the price…" he trailed off. _No matter what the price_. Except the price had been too high. He'd expected death, but only his own. He'd been so sure that Pike would never lift a hand against his own people, would never become an enemy as dangerous as the Grounders themselves. It had been simple for him, us versus them.

He let out a hallow laugh. So foolish to think life on the ground would be any different from life on the Ark. So damn foolish.

"There is blood on everyone's hands." She spoke firmly now, almost as if she'd forgotten he sat beside her, that their hands curled together in a tangle of broken trust. "The only thing left is to see if we can stem the flood." Clarke glanced over at him suddenly, her eyes burning with hypnotizing intensity. "Blood must not have blood."

"Blood must not have blood," Bellamy repeated, the words harsh and foreign on his tongue.

Clarke slumped against him, as if the burst of energy had taken all her strength. Her head settled upon his shoulder and he was reminded briefly of the first time they'd talked, out by the depot where they'd found the guns. He wished desperately that he could be in that moment again, broken, but not beaten. He'd thought he was a monster then. What a joke that was.


	5. Part 5: Explode

Part 5: Explode

Bellamy had no idea how long they sat there, tired and broken and wishing for anything else. But finally Octavia returned to the cave with Indra at her heels and fire in her eyes.

"We need a plan." Octavia glanced around the cavern, gaze sizzling Bellamy's skin. "Now."

Clarke pushed away from Bellamy, slowly rising to her feet. "Where are they keeping them?"

He could barely get his throat to work as the weight of their combined stares pressed down upon him. He cleared his throat, looking away. "Same place they were last time."

Octavia nodded sharply, her focus turning to Clarke. "Getting them out of lockup won't be easy…"

"Especially since Kane staged a prison riot as a distraction when he grabbed Pike." His chest tightened even further and the fire swam in front of his eyes. He'd never forget the look in Kane's eyes as he begged Bellamy to get out of the way, as he refused to hurt him, even at the cost of his own life.

"What?"

Now the full brunt of Octavia's menace was focused on him, chilling his veins and promising bitter torments. He had no idea how to tell them. How to admit that he'd brought this upon them all. His lungs were blocks of ice, freezing him inside out. His throat burned, the biting darkness raging within him.

"Bellamy?" Clarke's voice was soft still, willing him to teeter over the precipice, promising him salvation when there could be none.

He held her gaze with the desperation of a man beyond all hope, praying for her soul to see his. "Kane staged a prison revolt, a distraction. We didn't see it coming, wouldn't have been able to stop it, but Bryan, Miller's boyfriend from Farm Station, had placed a bug on him, so Monty knew the riot was only distraction. I only just got to the gate before Kane…" Bellamy trailed off, bile rising in his throat. Clarke only stared back, her eyes unflinching as he bared his sins. "I was so sure I had to stop him, that Pike wouldn't do anything more than lock him up, stop him from dividing our people. But he didn't."

"Because of you-"

Clarke swung around, her eyes hard as she met the full force of Octavia's rage. "No. We do not have time to hash this out now." She peered at each of them carefully, her tempered gaze brooking no opposition. "I doubt Pike would execute them in the brig. He seems like one for grand gestures and theatrics. So we'll need a well timed distraction and a few inside men."

Octavia still hummed with rage, but she nodded her acceptance. "I still have the radio I was using to communicate with Kane."

Bile still flooding his senses, Bellamy spared a brief glance at his sister before offering, "We can use that. Pike has Monty monitoring the radio frequencies. I don't think Pike will suspect that Monty's working with us, especially since his mother is such a fanatic." Bellamy shuddered, the sound of Hannah's harsh voice prickling through his memory.

"Look who's talking," Octavia snapped. Clarke sent her a warning look and she growled, low and fierce. "Yeah, I know. Later."

"So we contact this boy, then what?" Indra interjected, her dark eyes skirting past Bellamy as if he were mere dirt on the cave floor.

"We find out where's it happening and when. Then we stage a distraction, take Pike out before they even know what hit them."

Bellamy swallowed compulsively as Clarke spoke, determination rolling off of her. He'd known what this would come down to. He'd understood he would be exchanging one life for another, but the nausea still swept through him, wreaking him, forcing him headlong into the abyss of his soul. But he knew there was no going back, no miraculous time travel that would save him from this sacrifice. His lips felt numb, foreign, as he spoke. "You won't just need to take out Pike. You'll need to hit Hannah and Gillmer as well. The others will fold when they see what's happening, but not them. They're loyal 'til the end."

Loyalty. A quality Bellamy had always known he possessed. A loyalty to his mother, to his sister. When had that slipped between his fingers, becoming an insubstantial mist? The metallic taste was back in his mouth.

Clarke took his words in stride, nodding. "So we need to isolate them, or find a way to make them easy targets. Do we have any additional guns? Murphy and I were able to grab one on our way out of Polis, but it only has a few rounds in it. We need to be sure we'll hit our targets."

"We need to bring them to Polis," Indra countered. "If they are the true source of the injustice that Skaikru has brought upon us, it is their blood that must spill in the Capitol."

"You think the next Commander will be so lenient?" Clarke sounded genuinely curious, as if she was trying to put together pieces of an especially difficult puzzle.

"The Spirit of the Commander does not change so much," Indra answered, her meaning cryptic, the conversation moving to a level beyond Bellamy's grasp.

"Okay." Clarke's eyes met Bellamy's, glistening in the firelight, and yet burning with purpose. "We take them to Polis." She turned to Octavia. "You and Bellamy make contact with Monty. We can't decide what our plan is before we know the location."

Octavia made a barely concealed scoffing noise that had Clarke's eyes narrowing. "Is there going to be a problem, Octavia?"

His sister's eyes tore him to shreds as they raked over him. "I'll make it work. For Kane, Lincoln and Sinclair. Not for this sorry asshole."

For a long while all they heard was static. Bellamy's heart pounded restlessly in his chest as Octavia tried yet another channel. "Does anyone read me?"

The radio crackled back at her, mocking them. Bellamy glanced up at the crystalline sky. The sun was high now, slightly past noon, and they still weren't having any luck. Murphy sat silently beside Bellamy, a welcome buffer against Octavia's simmering rage. He let out a hollow chuckle, raw throat vibrating. Who would have predicted that? Bellamy eternally thankful to be in Murphy's presence.

"Can you think of any other damn frequency he might be listening to?" Octavia bit out, avoiding looking anywhere near him.

He sighed, jamming a hand through his hair. "I don't know, O. Have we tried 465.5?"

Her teeth worried at her bottom lip. "I don't think so. What did you use that for?"

The lump in Bellamy's throat threatened to strangle him. "We were using it to spy on Kane, but we didn't want Pike looking in either. I don't think he uses it for anything. The guard is on 466.7."

"Probably don't want to try that one," Murphy commented, sardonic as ever.

Octavia huffed, eyes rolling. "Yes, thank you." She twisted the frequency dial on the radio. "Here goes nothing. Arkadia do you read me? Come in Arkadia."

For a moment, only dreadful static greeted them and the blood in Bellamy's veins took a dip toward absolute zero. No contact with Monty meant they'd be flying blind and Bellamy knew full well that meant more blood on his hands. Just as he was giving up hope, surrendering to the darkness coiling through him, the radio sputtered to life.

"Octavia is that you?" Monty's voice was the most wonderful sound he'd heard, even more gratifying than Clarke's static infused voice in Mt. Weather.

Octavia gave Bellamy a hard look, full of emotions he didn't want to identify, before slipping the radio into his hand. "Don't fuck this up."

Murphy chuckled in dark amusement, but kept his silence as Bellamy sent a fraught glare in his direction. "Monty, it's Bellamy."

"Oh thank God," Monty sighed through the radio. "Miller, Harper and I had just about given up hope… we were starting to try something from the inside, but my mom and Pike are watching us like hawks."

Bellamy's heart twisted into a new and horrible contortion. "You know that your mom…" he trailed off, unable to force the poisonous words through his lips.

A long burst of static ensued before Monty's soft voiced floated back to them. "Yeah. I know."

"I never wanted this." He knew it wasn't enough, that it didn't actually excuse anything, but he couldn't help but claw towards redemption, no matter how impossible it seemed.

"Bellamy." Monty's voice was stronger now, infused with a certainty Bellamy feared he'd never feel again, too twisted was the thicket of his mind. "We have to focus on the present. Pike has arranged for the execution at nightfall today. Right in the middle of camp, so everyone can see the example he's making of them…"

Bellamy's chest constricted further, the weight pushing down on him beyond suffocating. "In the middle of camp, along the main road?"

"Yeah. He thinks the aerial surveillance provided by the guard towers will prevent anyone from making a move to stop the execution."

Octavia nodded sharply and snatched the radio from Bellamy's trembling fingers. "We can use that. If we take the towers quietly they won't have a clue we're there until we strike. Can you get yourself and Miller assigned to one of those?"

"I think so…" Monty's tone was uncertain. "I don't think they trust Miller though. I'm going to need someone else…"

"Bryan," Bellamy whispered softly. Octavia's brows shot up, but for once she didn't look like she wanted to tear his head from his spine. "Tell him to bring Bryan in. I didn't want to before, but if Miller's safety is on the line, I'm sure he'll agree."

"Okay," she muttered, pressing the talk button. "Monty, Bellamy thinks we should bring Bryan in. Tell him that Miller's life is on the line."

"That's not even a lie," Monty admitted. "Things are getting really tense around here. Pike isn't suspicious yet, but if Bellamy's not back here soon, we're fucked."

"Noted." Octavia's eyes narrowed in concentration, a look Bellamy had seen many times as she poured over his old school books. "We need a way to get Pike and the others without hurting them. Preferably something we can shoot from the guard towers."

Bellamy drew an excruciating blank, his mind running into wall after wall until he found the answer, so obvious he could hardly believe he'd taken so long to realize it. Adrenaline surging down his spine, he grabbed the radio back from his sister, ignoring her scathing look. "Ask Abby. I'm sure she's got something potent enough to put them down for a long while without being lethal. If we can get our hands on something potent enough, we can take out the tower guards and Pike."

"Good thinking. I'll check with her before I talk to Miller and Bryan." Static surged for a moment before Monty's voice cut across the noise. "And Bellamy? Get back here before it's too late."

"Will do. Bellamy out." He barely felt his sister pry the radio from his tingling fingers. All he could feel was the hope, pernicious and perilous, twisting through him. He hadn't dared to believe, not before, but his entire soul strained for this redemption, this stilling of the knife before it divided him, never to be whole again.


	6. Part 6: Ruin

Part 6: Ruin

They decided that despite the danger, especially so near the blockade, it was better if they traveled together back to Arkadia. Clarke, Octavia and Indra would wait outside the gates while Bellamy and Murphy returned. Once again the irony of having Murphy as the key to their salvation was not lost on any of them. A man who'd once tightened a noose around Bellamy's straining neck was now the lynchpin of their plan.

Bellamy's abrupt departure would likely be brought into question, but with Murphy by his side, a detailed explanation would hardly be necessary. Murphy still looked like absolute shit and Bellamy's face was swollen where Octavia had delivered her message loud and clear. No one would question that Bellamy had helped Murphy escape the Grounders. In the ensuing chaos, they could only hope that no one asked how Bellamy had known to look for Murphy. If pressed, he was sure Murphy would come up with some reasonable explanation, he was a slippery snake after all, but Bellamy doubted it would come to that.

So that's how Bellamy ended up sequestered in a copse at the edge of the road leading to Arkadia, Clarke's bright blue eyes destroying him as her fingers clutched at his worn jacket. Octavia hadn't even bothered to say goodbye, her eyes too bright with grief and too dark with scorn for him to bear anyway. Which left him with Clarke, Murphy hovering somewhere behind them.

"I'm so sorry," he croaked out, the words brittle.

Her teeth worried at her bottom lip, her eyes held a promise he hardly deserved. "If we get through this one. I'll have that drink with you."

"I don't deserve it."

She shrugged, her slim shoulders holding so much weight, so much more than he could ever bear. "I don't think that matters, not anymore. There is no good guy, Bellamy. There's just life and maybe we need to accept that."

His heart soared with hope and his gut twisted with pain, wrenching him apart. His voice was hoarse as he murmured, "Clarke…"

Clarke shook her head fiercely, golden braids swinging in the afternoon sun, casting an angelic halo around her soft features. "Bellamy…" Her lips worked silently before she snapped them shut, instead pulling him roughly into her arms, clinging to him as only Clarke did. He breathed in the scent of her hair, something heady and floral, and crushed her further into his chest, straining to smother his darkness in her light. Her heart thrummed rapidly against his, each beat pulling him further into her.

As abruptly as it began, the hug ended, Clarke slipping beyond his reach once again. Her eyes encompassed him, pushing beyond all barriers and into the train wreck of his soul. "May we meet again."

He nodded, burning with the need to crash into her again, to feel the safety of her entwined within his arms. "May we meet again."

Then he was turning and Murphy was laying a warm hand on his shoulder as they faced the gate of Arkadia, treason in their minds, hope in their hearts.

Bellamy waited impatiently, itching for action, as he stared down at the thin sheets of Miller's bed. Or maybe it was Bryan's. He'd never been to their quarters before, never had any reason, so he couldn't be sure.

Pike had accepted his explanation easily, as if it had never occurred to him Bellamy could turn against him, and Murphy had been whisked off to medical with all the brusqueness of business as usual. It was working out better than he could have imagined.

He'd managed to keep his cool despite the nausea swelling every time Pike looked easily into his eyes and let slip words like _execution_ and _traitors_. Each step through the halls of Arkadia felt as if he were walking through quicksand, sinking faster the more ferociously he struggled. The weight bearing down on his chest was untenable, his breath coming in gasps even as he sat alone in Miller's quarters. The odds were not good on him lasting another round with Pike, but there was no choice. Blood was already on his name, but he wasn't about to add Kane's.

It was unbearable to wait for the others, knowing he was powerless to intervene. Murphy had the easiest job; already being in medical with Abby it would be straightforward for him to obtain the sedatives they needed. The harder job fell to Monty, who needed to insert himself and Bryan into the guard tower patrols without arousing suspicion before he led Bryan to Bellamy. In theory it should be simple, but Monty had never shown any interest in setting the patrol schedules before. There was a strong possibility his sudden interest would arouse suspicion, if only in his mother.

The door clanged open and Bellamy shot to his feet. Monty's expression was unreadable as he ushered Bryan into the room, latching the door behind them. Bryan's features contorted in surprise, brows shooting toward his hairline as he saw Bellamy. He glanced back at Monty, gaze sharpening with suspicion.

"What is this?"

Bellamy cut straight to the chase. "Do you love Miller?'

Bryan's eyes bulged in their sockets for a moment, his expression borderline comical as his lips worked silently. "I fail to see how that's any of your business right now."

"It's entirely my business. Answer the damn question," Bellamy growled, voice straining with desperation.

Miller's boyfriend continued to look put out, but his tone was even as he answered, "Yeah, Blake, I love Nate. What the hell is this about?"

Bellamy shared a long look with Monty before hissing through his teeth and turning back to Bryan. "We need your help. I never wanted to get Kane, Lincoln or Sinclair killed and I'm not about to let Pike get away with executing them. We do not kill our own."

Bryan released a slow breath. "What?"

"We have a plan, to stop the execution and to stop Pike, but it's only going to work if you help us. If you love Miller, you'll understand why this has to be done, why we can't let Pike start targeting his own people. Monty and I didn't tell him about Miller and Harper for a reason. If he knew what they'd been up to… hell, if he knew what we were up to, we'd in the same place as Kane right now. I may not trust the damn Grounders, but turning on our own people isn't acceptable, no matter what Pike thinks."

Bellamy's chest was heaving as he finished, the words resonating through him. He'd known how much he hated Pike's decision, but the anger and devastation coating every word was a shock. He'd been afraid, caught in the crossfire with no direction to run, but he hadn't felt the burning anger until now. It warred with the frosty fear within him, stoking the fire of his soul. He may have crossed every line imaginable, but he would fight for this, for men who he owed his very existence to.

Bryan's mouth open and closed, his lips pressing together firmly before he nodded. "I'm in. Our experience landing in the Ice Nation lands was horrible, and I do hate the Grounders for what they did to us, but Kane isn't a Grounder and I never thought it was right to kill him."

"Good," Bellamy breathed, tendrils of hope sliding through him. "It was going to get messy if you disagreed."

Bryan smiled ruefully. "Yeah, I imagine so."

A light knock had them all whipping their heads toward the door. Monty's lips pursed, his eyes sliding to meet Bellamy's questioning stare. "I told Murphy to meet us here. I figured it was best if we left Miller out of the plan. My mother doesn't trust him."

"Get behind the door just in case," Bryan hissed, moving to open the latch. Bellamy and Monty immediately shuffled into the space between the door and wall, bated breaths mingling together.

Although he couldn't see anything, Bellamy heard the distinct timbre of Murphy's voice as Bryan swung the hatch open. "Who the hell are you?"

Bellamy wasted no time slipping around the corner, catching Murphy's ever-sullen stare. "Chill, Murphy, and get the hell in here."

Murphy rolled his eyes, but obeyed, stepping over the threshold and surveying the room. "Jeez. Look at all the luxury I've been missing out on. At least my Jaha sponsored vacation included more than ten square feet of living space."

"Murphy," Bellamy growled.

"Hold onto your fucking panties, Blake," he groused, digging into his pocket and pulling out a bag full of syringes and bottles. "I got what you needed. Abby was a right bitch about it, but I get the feeling that was more because I used your name than how she feels about what we're doing."

Bellamy snatched the bag from him, ignoring the surly expression Murphy wore. "Good. We'll make sure these end up in the right place. Now fuck off."

Murphy's eyes darkened, an emotion Bellamy couldn't identify flashing through them. "No way, Blake. I'm in this for better or worse."

Maybe it was the barely disguised weariness in Murphy's frame or the way his eyes looked so very different now, but Bellamy merely shrugged, turning to Monty and Bryan. "So we need get some of this to Clarke outside the wall. The other half I want to keep with us. We'll need to knock out the other guards on the towers and I don't want to leave anything to chance if Octavia or Indra misses."

"I'll take the supplies to Clarke," Murphy volunteered, giving Bellamy a mild case of whiplash as his head snapped around to meet Murphy's unfathomable glare.

"Fine. I'll show you how to get out. No one will miss you anyway," he noted, unexpectedly thankful for Murphy's sudden altruistic urges. "You guys got the guard tower situation under control?"

Monty and Bryan exchanged a charged look before Monty nodded. "We'll get it done."

"Good. I'll get Murphy out, but then I have to get back to Pike. He's going to know something's wrong if I'm not with him during the execution." The lump was back in his throat. He swallowed, ignoring the metallic taste on his tongue. Monty's eyes were warm as he met Bellamy's stare. "May we meet again."

Monty clasped his forearm, fingers digging into Bellamy's flesh. "May we meet again."


	7. Part 7: Devastate

Part 7: Devastate

Bellamy's skin prickled as he watched Kane, Lincoln and Sinclair silently march across the camp, Arkadia guards watching warily as they trooped toward the appointed execution grounds. Lincoln's eyes caught Bellamy's, the accusation and disappointment in his stare too potent for Bellamy to endure. Bile coated Bellamy's tongue as he dropped his gaze, searching for strength in the dirt beneath his feet. He could do this; he could withstand Kane's weary eyes and Lincoln's silent condemnation. Any other choice was unthinkable… their plan too fragile to withstand the slightest alteration. They had one shot at this and Bellamy would rather swallow the gun that rested heavily at his hip than be the reason for their failure.

It was key that he played his part, remained ignorant of any successes or failures of his fellow mutineers. So he forced his eyes upward, cold steel in his gaze as he met Kane's troubled stare. His fingers twitched against his legs, fear gushing through him in icy waterfalls, but his eyes stayed hard, his shoulders strong. He would do this even if it killed him.

Pike's warm hand burned into his shoulder, his repugnant words floating across Bellamy's skin. "I know this isn't easy, Bellamy, but we're doing the right thing. Trust me."

Bellamy made his head bob up and down. They were doing the right thing. His voice was strong, foreign as he murmured, "I do."

Appeased, Pike retreated, letting his heavy hand fall from Bellamy's shoulder. Pike turned toward the crowd that had amassed in the clearing, eager villagers gathering for a hanging. Bellamy's stomach dropped again and it took every inch of strength within him to remain standing tall, aloof to the torment within.

"We are gathered here for a somber occasion. One that I hope we will never bear witness to again. But the law is hard and as citizens of Arkadia, we must abide by it. The punishment for treason is death." He paused a moment, waiting for the hushed murmurs of the crowd to cease. "It is with great sadness that I carry out this act, but I am the Chancellor and I must follow the law."

 _Bullshit_. Plenty of Chancellors had followed the law loosely, even in the days of the Ark. And now they were on the ground. There was no lack of oxygen to worry about, no real reason to justify capital punishment. This was all Pike and everyone damn well knew it.

Bellamy caught a glimpse of Jaha retreating into the crowd and wished he could follow. His eyes slid back from the crowd to Kane, Lincoln and Sinclair, lined up facing the wall of the food storage building. Bellamy's throat worked furiously, his body screaming for action, begging him to stop Pike before it was too late, before their blood stained his hands. But he stayed his hand, sweat tracing his brow and dripping beneath his collar, trusting that Clarke, Indra and Octavia were here, waiting for the opportune moment.

Bellamy watched Pike withdraw his gun, trembling fingers ghosting over his own. Soon. They would act soon. His knees shook and his heart beat frantically against his chest. Just as Pike's finger began to tighten on the trigger, the drugged darts rained down upon them, sticking securely in Hannah's neck and Gillmer's arm, but the dart intended for Pike bounced off his armor as he swung to face the attack. Other guards were dropping like flies now, but Pike was still standing, tightening his grip on the gun and swinging it back toward Kane.

There was no time to think, to judge or debate, only to act. Bellamy's finger was pressing the trigger before he even knew he'd raised the gun. The shot jolted him back to reality, his mouth wide with shock as Pike dropped to ground, blood spurting from the gaping wound in his head.

Then there was only noise, screaming and shouting, drowning him, driving him to the ground. He huddled there, head ducked beneath his arms, gun falling limply to the damp earth beside him, until the roaring in his ears abated and firm hands grasped his arms, hauling him to his feet. He blinked, tears leaking down his cheeks, as he stared into Kane's eyes.

"This was you." It wasn't a question. Bellamy nodded, voice caught in his throat, pulse still pounding a rapid tattoo. He caught sight of Pike's still body lying beside them, blood soaking into the Earth. His stomach turned and this time he didn't fight it, letting the waves of nausea wash over him as he bent and retched, what little there was in his stomach soaking into the bloody dirt.

He was trembling, mouth burning with bile, and eyes blurring as Kane helped him stand again, strong arm wrapping around his shoulders. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable."

Bellamy didn't have the strength to protest as Kane led him away from the blood, the smell of carnage fading as they moved toward the main buildings of Arkadia.

Time passed, neither quickly nor slowly, as he sat at the table, eyes boring sightlessly into its metallic surface. Kane had offered to stay, but Bellamy had been beyond communication, merely slumping further into his seat, chaos raging through him. Sometime Kane had left, but he hadn't paid much attention, barely hearing the clank of the shutting door.

He'd thought he'd reached the bottom, that he couldn't shatter into any more pieces, but he'd been wrong. Bellamy's whole soul was drenched in blood and all he could see was Pike's head blowing outward as the bullet met its mark. He wretched again, but only dry heaves wracked his body.

A knock on the door had him pitching upward, stumbling as he tried to find a more dignified position. The hatch swung open as he collapsed into the chair he'd been sitting in, breath jolting out of him in a hollow gasp.

"Bellamy?" Clarke's soft voice washed over him, his chest tightening as she turned to face him. He looked up at her, soul broken and eyes empty, barely able to see the shape of her.

She froze, her hand still on the hatch, eyes widening as they searched his face before running up and down his exhausted frame. Finally, she shut the door and came to kneel before him, her blue eyes glistening with moisture.

"I would never have asked you to do that."

She didn't need to elaborate. Bellamy knew exactly what she was talking about. He swallowed, throat raw and stinging as he rasped, "I know."

Clarke nodded, golden hair bouncing, as she settled onto the floor in front of him, her legs pulled safely up against her chest, chin resting on her knees. "It's over now. The guards we knocked out were put into lockup and Lincoln, Indra and Octavia are going to take Hannah and Gillmer to Polis."

His eyes shot up to meet hers, her face finally swimming into focus. "Not you?"

She stretched out a hand to grasp one of his, her small palm hot against his skin. "You were right. You told me to come home to my people and I didn't listen… and look what happened. I needed you, but I never really thought about you needing me. You always seem so strong…."

Bellamy laughed, the noise sudden and horrible in the quiet room. "Look at me, Clarke. Look at me!" He commanded, voice rising to a fever pitch. "Do I look strong to you?"

The volume of his voice strained his raw throat, but he ignored the pain, choosing to stare down at Clarke, daring her to contradict him.

"You are so damn strong, Bellamy," she hissed at him, her grip on his hand painfully tight. "You may not think it, but I know it. You'll get through this too."

Bellamy sighed, the fight draining out of him. "Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I don't deserve to."

"It doesn't fucking matter what we deserve, Bellamy," she insisted, voice infused with a steadiness he'd always envied. "There is no right and wrong down here. We've all done things we'd rather forget, that will haunt us for the rest of our lives, but we have to keep going because if we don't, what's the point? I have to believe there is something other than pain in this world."

He groaned, rubbing his free hand across his face, feeling the dirt smear beneath his fingertips. "Every time I dare to believe that, someone dies, Clarke."

She was silent for a long moment, her eyes misting over. Heaving a deep breath she looked back up at him, grief tugging at her visage. "You think I don't feel that way too? You think you're the only who's lost someone they love? I put the fucking knife in Finn's chest; I held Lexa in my arms a she breathed her last breath. I believe because of them. Because if I don't, what was their sacrifice, their fight? For nothing?"

Bellamy blinked, seeing her with a new clarity. He'd always believed they were so different, opposites that fit together to lead their people, but radically different people. But they weren't so different. They both cared deeply, both lost everything time and again. They were both fighting for a better world, even when they had no idea if one existed. Clarke had always been a co-leader to accept, a partner to depend on, but never another soul as tortured as his own. But the desperate light he saw in her eyes was reflected in his own. His pain was hers.

"How do we go on?" His voice was steadier now, but no less suffused with suffering and loss.

"Together." She pulled herself up to kneel within the vee of his legs, the heat of her branding him with hope. "We go on together. I promise I won't leave you again. I won't turn my back on my people, not again."

He inhaled deeply, dropping his forehead to rest against hers. "Together."

Later, after Clarke had gone, her tightly guarded grief at Lexa's passing finally breaking through in harrowing sobs that ripped through him like a panther's claws, Octavia stepped through the door. He had no idea what to say to her, his tongue tied in knots of regret.

She shuffled into the room, sinking down on the mattress beside him, the feel of her against his side unnatural. The silence stretched out around them, bundling them in shared remorse. Finally, her voice thick with emotion, she murmured, "I don't have much time, Indra's waiting for me." She paused, voice dropping to a strained whisper, "But I can't lose you like that, Bell, not again."

Bellamy swallowed thickly, sliding his eyes to take in her hunched figure, so different from the fierce warrior she'd been hours before. "I get that."

"I thought we understood each other," she burst out, swinging her head to glare at him. "We talked about it, that day at Mt. Weather. About how I didn't fucking belong here, how I need to leave. Were you listening to anything I said?"

He tried to remember, but all he could see was Gina's face, the dining hall at Mt. Weather, the deception of Echo's smile. He licked his lips trying to push through the haze of guilt and death, but it was no use. "I… I can't remember," he finally admitted, averting his eyes to the worn sheets between his fingers.

"Damn it, Bellamy!" Octavia exploded as she surged to her feet. "I understand you've been through hell, that we've all been through fucking hell, but what in the hell possessed you to forget everything we've learned down here, to forget me!"

Before rage would have surged within him bolstered by the cold understanding that survival came at a cost. Now, though, he had no answer to her accusations, no defense that held up against her indignation, her grief. Despite Clarke's decision to remain in Arkadia with her people, he was more lost than ever, a traitor to his people several times over.

The ache in his gut that the explosion at Mr. Weather had carved and that the massacre and ill-fated confrontation with the Gounder village had furthered, was larger, more volatile, pressing down on him with every breath. Bellamy understood only one thing for certain; he could not lose Octavia, his only remaining family, the epicenter of his skewed universe. He'd seen the hatred burning in her eyes, heard the venom in her lilting voice and could not bear that again. She was his family and somehow, he'd lost sight of that.

When had _my sister, my responsibility_ faded from his consciousness? When had he decided that his sister was acceptable collateral damage making him no better than Clarke at Ton DC? He hadn't believed Octavia would be hurt, even after her role in the Grounder trap, but had he been so naïve as to think he could lock her boyfriend up and she would allow it, would not fight back with every fiber of her being? And then she would have been in the crosshairs, no matter how much Bellamy fought to keep her safe.

He sighed, the air shuddering through his lungs as he looked up at her expectant face, his eyes oozing remorse. "I don't know, O. I don't know…"

The fight seeping out of her, she collapsed beside him, her hands shaking as they clutched at his. "I meant it, Bell, I can't do this, not without you. I need you." She paused, her throat working silently as her eyes danced circles round his soul. "I know I act like I'm strong, like everything in life that hasn't killed me has just made me stronger. But I still fucking need you! You're my big brother and no matter what happens I want that to be true…"

He leaned into her, feeling her warmth, the steady beat thrum of her pulse against his skin. They were cut of the same cloth, tempered by the same flame, and he could not imagine a world without her. "I'll do better, O, I promise you."

She sighed against him, a breath of forgiveness and relief, as she nestled closer to him, her arms breaking free of his hold to anchor about his torso. "We'll do better," she amended. "We're in this together."

 _Together_. Clarke's voice echoed through his memory. If they were going to survive, it would take all of them, together, to weather the coming storm. He tightened his grasp on his sister and tried to remember the sound of her laughter as she bounced on his back through their cramped quarters on the Ark, just a girl laughing with a brother, not a warrior crying with a monster.

 **Thank you all for coming on this journey with me!**

 **Tomorrow we'll see how the writers deal with this... I can't imagine it'll play out like it did in this story, but I hope that some of the elements I addressed will be included. I have a feeling things might be so much worse and that the price will be much higher than I made it. We'll see.**


End file.
